The past two days have been kind of a blur. How strange to be in a new place, starting a new world, separate from the old. How strange when an event both expected and unexpected comes upon you suddenly and puts both worlds into perspective. How strange when independence and dependence, loneliness and companionship suddenly share the same meaning, carry the same emotions.
I played darts tonight at a bar called The Ginger Man. We won the first game, Elizabeth and I, somehow, against Jory and his friend whose name I forget already, but lost the second. The whole time my mind was racing. It's hard to say what it was I was thinking about, like when you are lost in thought and someone asks you what you are thinking, and suddenly your train of thought disappears, and it's impossible to remember exactly what it was you were thinking. All I can say is there are a few people that I suddenly want more than anything to see, to talk to in person. Some I will get the chance to see very soon. Others I cannot, because they are so far away.
So far away. One of those things that keeps taking on new meaning. If I move around enough in my lifetime, will I eventually find one place from which I can measure all the others, a sort of absolute zero on the scale of how far away I am? Perhaps, but I would never know it when I got there.
In every heart there is a room,
A sanctuary, safe and strong,
To heal the wounds of lovers past
Until a new one comes along.
Maybe my real problem when people ask me what I am thinking about is that I'm never thinking about one thing. Thinking about one thing leads me to thoughts about another thing, which leads to another, in some random order, until my thoughts have touched everywhere once, and then they start over again. What am I thinking about? Everything. It's either that or nothing, there's no in between. Nothing is just an easier answer. I can't even stay on one subject when I'm writing, I'm always jumping around, so that the end result is unintelligible to anyone but me, when in all likelihood all I needed in the first place was someone to understand what I was trying to say.
And now, the eternal struggle: Do I press that button down there, putting this crap all over the internet for anyone (and everyone, as it seems) to read? They'll all think I'm crazy, they'll sympathize, try to comfort me, that's not what I want. But if that's not what I want, then why did I write it? I'm not used to people knowing so much about me. It's not my fault that I'm not nearly as forthcoming in person as I am in writing. Well, okay, it's my fault, but only because I can't think of anyone else to blame.
And we'll keep working on the problem
We know we'll never solve
Of love's uneven remainders,
Our lives are fractions of a whole.
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2 comments:
Why don't you call that girl today?
Empathy. I totally and completely 100% understand exactly what you mean/are feeling. It's ineffable and effed up and you just want to effing eff it but you effing can't. If you stick your finger far enough down your throat, you vomit up the contents of your stomach; if you stick a q-tip far enough in your ear, can you puke up the contents of your brain? I would be such an aural bulemic if that worked. We could form a support group.
Miss you. You smell. And as a great man once said, "I do want to say that I was quite touched by your post. It was cheesy at times, but it was true. I don't think you should be ashamed of it, it takes courage to post that kind of stuff."
Yes, yes it does.
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